Dead but not Forgotten
by toctic clocks
Summary: Remembering does awful things to Neverland. Wendy never forgot Peter, but he was made to forget her. The day he remembers will be the day he brings everything back, for one cannot have the good without the bad. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Five years, although not anywhere near never, was an awfully long time. Just long enough to forget, but not quite long enough to forget one had forgotten; it was a complicated amount of time, five years, to say the least.

For Wendy Moria Angela Darling, five years had felt a lifetime. Not once in all 1095 nights had she laid eyes on the boy who overtook her stories, although she spoke of him every day. And each evening, moments after her mother closed the window in her bedroom (Wendy had left the nursery long ago), she unlatched the thing and opened it ever so slightly; just enough to let anyone coming by know they were still welcome. That perhaps she hadn't quite grown up yet. To let someone, anyone, know that just maybe adulthood hadn't quite gotten a hold of her, if only they would be willing to swoop in and save her from everything coming her way.

Wendy was seventeen, you see, and very soon to be a real woman: a married woman. As far away from childhood as she could possibly get, and as appealing as the idea of having a house and being a real mother was (for there was no denying she had enjoyed her time of it previously), she had always felt as though perhaps there was something missing. A very tiny piece of herself she'd used to keep locked up in a drawer, somewhere far back in the dusty corners of her mind, inside a box, tied up with neat little ribbon. Inside that box she knew was a very small kiss, attached to a delicate chain, which had once saved her life. Quite possibly it could save it again, if only she would be willing to open up the dusty little drawer.

It was a hard thing to do, however, opening a drawer like that. Typically, when one is searching for something ever so special, other, seemingly less important things tend to slip through the cracks. Things that look suspiciously like memories which when viewed hard enough, can very well be believed back into reality. And it need not be said that not all memories are good ones, and perhaps the most curious bit of all is that it is the bad ones which people most often readily believe.

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><p>For Peter Pan, five years was the blink of an eye. Or the flash of lightning, or the thrill of a fight. One small flight around Neverland. Five years was a story. Many stories, all wrapped up into one big one filled with the same wicked grins and mischievous crows and always the winning, because Peter Pan never lost a fight. Peter Pan never lost anything. Not even time. One cannot lose things if they forget. But then, Peter Pan never forgot, either.<p>

"And then I poked him, right here," the boy indicated the space between his eyes with a dirt-covered finger, entire body tense with the vividness of his retelling. "So he woke up, you know-"

"Oh, but why would you wake him? Wouldn't it be easier just to kill him in his sleep?" gasped an auburn-haired mermaid, her large brown eyes growing wide.  
>"And I-What? No! I can't kill 'em in their sleep! That's hardly fair," Peter shot the girl an incredulous look, his dramatic tale skidding to a halt in a manner that was very close to audible. He sank back down to the rock, arms crossed behind his head as he lounged-nothing would dare touch him here. Nothing could.<p>

After a few minutes of silence, save the gentle breaking of water as the mermaid's tails slapped against its surface, another girl spoke. This one was blonde, her voice a light, airy sort of tone that was at once alluring and admiring. "Oh Peter, do tell us another story..." She spoke delicately, as if unsure whether or not he would oblige.

"Yes Peter! Another one, please!" a chorus of girlish voices rang out across the lagoon.

"You could tell us about how you killed Hook. We do love that story," The blonde inched closer, so that all but the tip of her tail was nestled next to Peter on the rock. She bit her lip in wait of his response.

Peter sat up slowly. Confusion was etched across his face as he looked at the dozen or so mermaids gathered around, each of their eyes trained on him, wide as saucers. "Who?" This was no game.

The auburn haired girl who'd spoken earlier cocked her head curiously, watching the boy on the rock as if waiting for him to leap up and cry "Gotcha!"  
>"But...surely you remember Captain Hook, Peter. Why, we all thought you were so brave when you tossed his hand to the crocodile the first time. And then when you went back to finish him off..." she trailed off, her fin spinning slow circles in the air behind her as if to somehow emphasize her point. "Why, we almost couldn't believe how quick you did it."<p>

"Yes, and all on your own, too," the blonde cooed, running a delicate finger down Peter's arm. "It was almost unbelievable."

"I-I donno what you're talking about," Peter stood up now, licking his chapped lips as his eyes darted around at the faces before him. For a split second, something like fear flashed across his features. Then he smiled. A cocky, impish grin that said all too well he'd figured them out. "You're trying to trick me," he shook his head in disbelief. Did they actually thing he would fall for that one?

"Peter, we would never even dream of trying to trick you. You're much to clever to fall for that," the blonde raised her eyebrows as she looked up at him, this time letting her finger-somehow damp, although it had been out of the water for quite some time-run its way once over Peter's toes.

He couldn't help but puff out his chest a bit, grinning. "Well, that is true..." he nodded in a rather horrible attempt at modesty.

He made a move to begin sitting again when the auburn spoke. "Of course that Wendy girl, on the other hand-" her giggle turned into a glare at the look the blonde shot her, for Peter had suddenly stood bolt upright, hand gripping tight to the dagger at his hip.

"Wendy?" it was only half a question. The moment the name left his lips, Peter was hit with a force not unlike a cannon blast. His eyes shut tight and he staggered, the weight of a thousand stories suddenly barring down on him at once. There was a girl in a nightdress, telling a story to two boys and a dog. There was a shadow and a kiss, and a star and a house and six boys, all with different names than the ones he had now. And there was a window, open. A man, with a twisted grin and an evil laugh and no right hand. Instead, there was a "...Hook," Peter breathed, his eyes still shut tight.

Just then, a small shudder seemed to make its way through the Neverland. A quaking sort of feeling that hit one right in the gut and twisted, but passed just before the breath got knocked out of you. Peter seemed hardly to have noticed, although the mermaids were no longer grinning with lazy ease. His eyes opened suddenly, and to no one in particular he said, "I have to find Tink."

And then, just like that, Peter Pan was off the rock and in the air.


	2. Chapter 2

"Wendy, dear, you mustn't leave the window open like that. You'll catch your death!" Mrs. Darling fussed over her daughter with a small shake of her head.

Wendy was silent, the slight pursing of her lips saying everything she was not allowed. She stood quite still in the corner of her room, nightdress blowing about her as the chilly winter draft made its way about the four walls. Silent as the grave, she found herself thinking as she watched her father push the frame downwards, felt her heart give a sudden, small stutter as he turned the latch to lock it. Her mother was watching from the corner of her eye for the reaction Wendy had trained herself not to give. Mrs. Darling bit the inside of her lip slightly, casting her husband a look that showed her worry far more than any sentence could have expressed. There were other reasons why it was so imparitive the window reamin closed, of course-she knew there were, dreadful horrible things would happen if it was left open-but she was simply unable to put her finger on them. Perhaps that was what worried her the most.

"Thank you George, darling," she gave her husband a tender kiss on the cheek as he left the room. "Could you tell the boys I'll be there in a moment?" He nodded, giving Wendy a strange sort of look before turning down the hall and into what had once been the nusery. Currently, it was just the boys' room: what were once mounds of toys were now piles of school books, the grizzly mess it had been not so long ago was-although not tidy-neater. More refined. Grown-up, so to speak. Even Slightly (the only boy insistent on keeping his Neverland name, although he no longer knew where it had come from) had ceased to be able to create a mess.

Mrs. Darling watched as her husband made his way down the hall, her lips pursed in a thin line of disappointment despite the worry in her eyes when she turned back to her daughter. "Wendy, I don't know why you insist on leaving this open every night. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were waiting for something," of course, she did know. Somewhere very far in the back of her mind, she knew exactly what her daughter was waiting for, just as she knew in the very same far-off corner precisely who had snatched her kiss on that fateful night only five years ago.

"Oh, don't be silly, Mother. There's nothing to wait for but the wind," Wendy spoke crossly, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. For a moment, she almost believed it. It was a bit silly, leaving the window open every night, sometimes falling asleep looking out it. She wasn't a child any longer-the stars didn't wink and the morning was no more destination than evening. She had a fiance and a family and a duty to everyone in it; to this boy, the one with the crooked smile and wicked eyes, she owed nothing, not even belief.

"Good night, Wendy." Wendy didn't look up as her mother sighed and turned to walk out of the room, for she was apparently entranced by the way the diamond on her finger glittered in the moonlight. The minute the door closed, however, she was on her feet. Having done this an impossible amount of times before, she had the window open in seconds. Every movement was quick and quiet until she could feel once more the late night breeze as it played about her face. Wendy breathed the air in deeply, a smile on her face as she pulled the bedcovers up to her chin and drifted off to sleep.

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><p>Finding Tinker Bell was all too easy. She never liked visiting the mermaids with Peter (for reasons unbeknownst to him), but could always be counted upon to lurk near by, all too eager to meet up with him once he'd left the clutches of the lagoon. As usual, she flew at him like a missle, pinching his nose playfully. Any anger she'd felt had vanished the moment she realized Peter was looking for her, unable as ever to feel more than one thing at a time. He swatted her away, though, clearly preoccupied with something. Which was strange, as it was beyond Peter's nature to be preoccupied. Just as she was about to ask what exactly had gotten into him, he spoke.<p>

"Say, Tink...You remember Wendy?" He'd never been one for small talk. Peter's eyes darted to and fro as the little glowing fairy flitted her way before his eyes. The instant the question left his lips, Tink froze. Then, before he could bink, she was standing on the tip of his nose, giving the sort of glare only fairies completely consumed by anger could give. She kicked him sharply right between the eyes before shouting something in her bell-like voice. "Ow!" Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose vigiously, shooting upwards in a vain attempt to catch the flying little girl.

"You silly ass!" Tinker Bell's voice rang out before a long string of further explectives, occasionally punctuated with words such as "Nasty brat," "Mother," and "Hook." Peter could only assume she was retelling the story he'd just now remembered. He nodded, not quite looking at her as she settled down onto his shoulder, kicking her legs about every which way as she sat.

Once the fairy's tirade had quite ended, Peter's grin spread. "Well...I'm gonna go find her, and I want'cha to come. Think ya could do that for me, Tink?" and as he quirked his brow at her she sighed, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You silly ass..."

Peter laughed as they took off into the night sky, his mind on nothing but bringing Wendy back to Neverland with him like he'd promised he would. There was a twinge in the air as he flew, a slight layer of something darker lurking about the island which might have disturbed him had he been able to think of anything but a nursery window and a certain pair of forget-me-not blue eyes.

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><p>The eyes, of course, were not Wendy's. Peter could not remember the color of Wendy's eyes anymore than he could remember how long it had been since he'd seen her. The eyes belonged to a man; a very dark man with a hook for a hand and a ship and a crew and a life once more, thanks to the blunders of that vile youth. And this time, that man would not be thwarted so easily, for he had a plan. The plan began with an open window.<p> 


End file.
